Identity Crisis: musings of Teddy Lupin
by Confuzd Lives
Summary: Teddy Lupin. A boy that never knew his parents but still lives a fulfilled and happy life. Mostly just drabble. He's a fan of Muggle things, loves his drum kit, mischief, and happens to have ADD. Let's see what people think of this.  technically-3gen
1. Who Invented Thunder?

A/N: Teddy loves Muggle things. (Quite a bit like Arthur Weasley.) Because I am going to be using things from the present world and don't want to set Teddy in his first year of school—in cannon Teddy starts school in 2009, I am going to be twisting cannon just the slightest bit. I have done worse. XD

Chapter One: Who Invented Thunder?

August 28, '08

It is two am. I can't sleep. You'd think I'd be use to it after all of these years. I have never been able to sleep very easily. It always takes ages to relax enough to finally drift off to that intriguing place of unconsciousness our minds reach in sleep. I lie in bed, my mind running over the day's activities, or lack-there-of, contemplating what to do tomorrow, and/or planning future agendas. Tonight I couldn't tune out the storm. The rhythmic pattering on the window pane, the spastic light performance I could see through my closed eyelids even with my back to the window and blankets pulled over my head, and the thunder, which I know is coming, but still manage to jump at when it is somehow unexpected, all allow my nerves no rest. The rain keeps my ears following, it is such a beautiful sound, I think tomorrow I will duplicate it on the drums. I see the light and tense as I wait for the thunder and just as I am relaxing, there is a crack that nearly causes me to hit the ceiling in shock.

Who the h- invented thunder?

At first I refused to look at the clock in a defiant hope that I would suddenly wake and find myself looking at a clock that reads something like nine in the morning. But as my mind wandered from pointless thought to pointless thought I found myself glaring at the steadily ticking needle. Maybe I could make it stop and then I could fall asleep and not have to worry about the daylight and what is expected of me during daylight hours.

…

Eventually, I found watching my life tick away lost its appeal. I got up and have now written what there is to write. Not much more to write about. Can't sleep? Check. Storm? Check. Clock/time? Check. D-. What else? Not much I can do at this hour, thank Merlin school starts in only a couple more days, then I can just wander around the school, perhaps I can talk a friend to come with. Most think I am going to get caught. How could I? Harry gave me the greatest tool in his arsenal, the Marauder's Map. Apparently my father, Remus Lupin, helped to create it along with Harry's father, James Potter, and two other friends, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. I have heard so many stories of these men. All led incredible lives with much love, cowardice, hate, and humor. Even without the Map it would be able to pass by a teacher, I'd just take on the appearance of another person. Easy as pie.

Hm, pie sounds delicious right now. I wonder if there is any left from dinner. Nanna makes the greatest strawberry pie ever. I will make a deal out of this: sneak down the stairs with as little sound as possible to raid the kitchen. Perhaps I will be able to sleep with a full stomach...

Twenty minutes later.

Here I am. Sitting at the breakfast bar in the near dark. I puttered about the kitchen in the spaced flashes of light and still managed to jump at every rumble of thunder. Annoyingly, I couldn't hear the rain any longer. Of course not. It is the best part of the storm. Oh well. Thankfully, there was pie left, making the 'laborious' trip down here worth it—and I was able to hunt down whipped topping. AH-mazing. But I didn't stop there. No, I made coffee also.

Of course all that commotion, well, it may have been the heady fragrance of coffee or perhaps the burbling of the coffee pot, woke Nanna.

Actually, she scared the h- out of me. I had my back to the doorway, so when she asked me why I wasn't in bed, I very nearly toppled out of my chair. It was more frightening than the thunder.

… and I will never repeat that to another soul.

I told her that the storm was keeping me awake so she poured a cup of coffee for herself and joined me for a little. We just talked about the weather. Odd that. Apparently even for two people that know each other as well as Nanna and I, a typical topic for small talk was our chosen subject. That may have to do with having talked only a handful of hours ago. Or the fatigue I am sure we both felt.

The storm was quieting so I figured I may as well ramble a bit more. I am hoping to wait out the storm. Okay, the thunder. If it is still raining it could be relaxing. _Could_ be.

Damn. I just noticed the coffee was not de-caf. Wish me luck as I attempt that concept of sleep once more... this time with caffeine flowing through my veins.


	2. A Form of Torture

Chapter Two: A Form of Torture

August 29, 2008

I'm pretty sure boredom would make an excellent form of torture.

I have just spent the greater part of my day - one of the last before term starts, mind you - lying on my back on my bed staring at the ceiling. There are exactly forty-two cracks up there. One crawls from my left to the far right of the bottom edge of the ceiling. It looks distinctly like a spider web: the large swooping dome of the light fixture is the widowed spider and the countless posters and paraphernalia I have tacked up there are the many little insects.

The weather is incredibly dull with monotonous grey clouds trudging ever westward and a steady, incessant drizzle that is the only remnant of last night's storm.

My drums seem uninviting today. I have no clue why considering I won't have them in a couple of days. You'd think I would want to enjoy their rhythm as much as possible before I leave. I didn't even play out the sound the rain placed in my head last night.

Honestly, where has my mind gone today?

Nanna is calling for me. Time to go to Diagon Alley. Perhaps London isn't so bleak as here.

But I doubt it.

Later.

The sun was shining. It was rather odd. I mean, its not like we live that far from London and the fact that London was cheery and dry while home was a dull, depressing pit was just… odd. I really liked it.

Nanna flitted in and out of the shops picking up items we needed around the house and catching up on gossip. I wandered down the road pretty aimlessly. I needed a couple of new books, new quills, more ink, more parchment, a new set of scales, and some new robes. Boring really. Nothing new and fancy. Though I did talk Nanna into believing me when I said I needed that book, 'Muggle Rock of the '60s' for Muggle Studies and the griffin quill is pretty awesome.


End file.
